DONALD'S PLOT. A STORY OF An Unfaithful Guardian By SYLVANUS COBB, Jr.

Te Aroha News, Volume III, Issue 119, 12 September 1885, Page 6

DONALD'S PLOT. A STORY OF An Unfaithful Guardian By SYLVANUS COBB, Jr.

CHAPTER XV. UNCLE DONALD INVESTIGATES,— A TBLSOKAM. Rupert has been at home two weeks, and not yet had his father spoken to him, in any eerious manner, of Doria, In fact, he had seemed rather to avoid the subject ; but be sure ife was not absent from his thoughts. It was, in truth, the ore subject, next to the care of bia property, that engrossed his attention. He studied it by day, and he dreamed of it at night. To see Rupert and Doris husband and wife was his chief aim j and he did not think it would be diffioult to bring about. He was not sure that it would not come to 'pass without his assistance. He was sure they liked one another ; and he i was furthermore sure that his son was hampered by no other attachment. One evening, Donald Owen entered his private office, where he found his secretary fust locking up the large Bafe that was let into the brick wall next to the mam building. , , /» ft , "Well, Tarbell/have you reached a final T °Tf Very near ly, sir.TAt^any rate, I don't see that lean do any more. K.W. am judge fcfae value of the property Ralph Owen bought there, we shall have the whole story." *« What do you make itj?" •« Do you mean of real estate 1" « I mean everythmg.^lXwant the full result." , . " Well, sir," said the secretary, referring to a paper that lay on his desk, "I think it within bounds to set the real estate in Philadelphia at a million and a half . Kou may call it two millions, if you conclude to surrender the property inJßiehmond, wnicn Lambery offered to take. I saw him yesterday, and he is still eager to make the trade." „ A , "Theßichmond!eBtatesare.,worth more than that, Waiter." " Perhaps they may be J but I think, under the circumstances— considering, too, how his Philadelphia property is located m relation to your own— l would rather have the latter." .L. L A , "You are right. I shall take it. And now, the fundß in bank." " Here are the figures, sir." .... Donald took the slip of paper which his secretary handed to him, and read— » §1,870,000." , „ , "Can't we make it two millions?" he asked, eagerly. 11 Very easily. Call in a few of your rents in advance." " Good I There can never be a better time for it. Do it, Tarbell. You know whom to apply to. Will yeu attend to it V "I will, sir. 11 " All right. Remember— Mum's the word. Not a syllable of this to Rupert. Does he ever ask you any questions about my business?" 11 Never a breath, sir. No one would think, from what I can see cf him, that he had any interest in your estate." "That is as it should be. Still you nueht heed the hint. If. he should ask you, just give him to understand that you don't know." " I think, sir, I had better send him to you. He is not a fool. He knows lam your confidential clerk ; and he knows that you wouldn't keep me here an hour if I didn't know all about it. " Very well ; send him to me." " I will sir. But I don't think he'll oak." Tarbell finished his work in the office, and having been informed that he would be wanted no more that evening, he left. As aoon as the door had closed behind the retiring secretary, Donald Owen started across the narrow apartment — pacing to and fro, and thinking aloud as he walked. " There ! The iron is heated, and it is time to strike. I must have this girl my son's wife as quickly as possible. Wenzell thinks Jack Clearstar may turn up yet. He thinks he caught sight of him in Navy Yard at Gosport. ! why didn't he finish him when he had the opportunity ? However, with her married to Rupert, all the Jacks in creation can do me no harm. And— that golden flumadiddle that Ralph left behind him ! What in the world was it ?— A crucifix* Jack said. I must get hold of that bauble somehow. I don't believe I've forgotten my old tricks. According to what Jack told me about it, it's too heavy j for her to wear round her neck. It must be in some of her trunks or boxes. I'll find it, never fear. Just get her out of the house for a few hours, and the job is done. «* And now for Rupert. I hope he will be reasonable. Ah ! he don't know what I can be if lam crossed. I don't want him to do it." He pulled out his watch, and found it past nine o'clock. He extinguished the lights, and having securely bolted the door opening into the court, he went out by the other opening into the main dwelling j and in the library he found his son engaged in writing a letter. The old man walked several times to and fro while the young man wrote on. At length he said : " Rupert, can you give me a few minutes of your time?" *• Certainly . As many as you like. I was only writing a line to one of my college and army chums. It can wait." The father took a seat by the side of the table, where he could sitfacinghis son, and commencedas -follows : "Rupert, I have a serious matter to present to you, and let me say in the outset, I hope you will give me your heart, if you can, I won't beat about the bush. There's no need. Look ye, my boy— you've had a sufficient opportunity to become acquainted with your fair cousin. What do you think of her?" '* I think," said the youth calmly and soberly, " that she is a most estimable woman. - I believe her to be as good and true as she is mild and beautiful," 11 That is good. I like to hear you say o, Rupert. I wish you would add to my oy by telling me that you would like to take her for your wife." •• What ! Wife ! 27— marry with Doris !' 11 And why not ? I know you have a prejudice against the marriage of cousins ; but now much of a cousin Is this ? The cousinship german was between grandfathers. Don't tklnk of that." 11 Indeed, father, the thought of relation* ship never entered my mind. Doris is not a. girl to be courted by anybody yet a while. Let her bar* a> reasonable season of repose before you talk ot her marrying again. And, farther, make rare that she cares to marry." There was a calm, cool, off-hand independence about the young man's manner that grated upon the parental nerves harshly. " Rupert," choking back his feelings of anger, lot he felt them, " I would have you look ot this In ft different light from that in which you seem inclined to consider it, Remember*! am the girl's legal guardian. Re-

member, further, that she is yet an infant. Because her mother urged her into a marriago before she was— Pshaw 1 don't be so sensitive. If you think ao much of her as that, I don't see why you should not marry her at once. But, as I was saying, lam her legal guardian, and she will do that which I require of her. I wish that she should be your wife. Will you not try to please me in this?" , , " Father, I never saw a girl or a lady that I would rather call my wife than Dona. But lam not a marrying man. I will not ask any woman to become my wife until tarn stronger than lam at present. Before you talk to me of matrimony lot me feel * alight assurance, at least, of health. "Don't be a fool, Rupert ! You are well enough to mra* In fact, a wife like Doris would dojotwnore.good, m her loving companionship ?an6 in the light of her smiles, than all tne.doctors in the world. Don't talk like that-, iptayyCU. . " Truly, my dear father, I am not anxious to talk on the Bubject in any way. Once for all let me say, here and now, for a year, at least, I will nob think of marrying. There, let it rest at that, please. « Rupert ! it is a matter which cannot rest Stop 1 Listen to what I have to s&y. I tell youT in all soberness, if you do not make Doris your wife, I cannot tell you how Son you may find yourself stripped of ex-ipectation-«tripped of all that can make life worth living—and cast out upon the world penniless and homeless. "•Father," looking at him calmly and reprovingly, " Is not that putting it rather too strong. It is true-every «« Explain yourself. Do you moan to tell me that yon can be thus stripped and cast out upou the world ?" " Yes ! yes !" gaspingly. •'Then," still calmly and soberly, " There must be a flagrant wrong somewhere. Where is it? Will you tell me ? Donald Owen Btarted up from bis seat, and stamped his foot upon the floor with an angry feeling which he did not attempt to C °» C Rapert! don't go too far ! Remember I am your father. Something of respect i is due to me, let your opinions be what the y may. I have wronged nobody. 1 wish to prevent a wrong, and your marrying with father: Let'a understand one another j you say my marrying with Doris wiU prevent a great wrong. How will it accomplish it ?" T "No matter. I tell you the truth. I want you to believe me. It is not pleasant, I assure you, to be doubted by one* own dear father, I don't want to doubt you. I want to believe you ; and to that end I ask for a simple explanation. If it be as you say, the explanation must be "■StSaSftffied across the room, whole frame perceptibly cmxvexmg. "Rupert! Beware! You have cast upon me a elight-a alar-that I do not X Don't repeat it. I approached you n good faith, with a desire for your highest be tlHaving of more trouble-more direfu calamitv-than I can tell. It will save all of us from trouble; and I give you my word, it will be a blessing to Dons herself. " ?ou mean, you think so. " I mean no such thing. / knoioit. " I wish you would tell me how. "You shall know m good time. At present I ask you to obeyme. »' Suppose I could not. "But Suppose the case. You can do that. Suppose the thing ehould prove absolutely impossible, what then 1 "Why, it would prove impossible through your own whimsical perversity, and then-I-I-might forget that you were my 8 °" Well, well, Iguess, father, we had better both of « sleep upon it. And J beg of i you, when you ask of me a thing that staggers me, you will, at least, give me a tangible r6 tf ii n w £H give you a reason for obedience, never fear, And let me give you one thing more to sleep upon, and I would have you ponder it well. You have never yet^dared my wrath. Don't do it now. There No more to-night. Go to your rest, and if you have a care for yourself-if you care for your future-beware how you"Hold! Don't threaten me, father. You don't know me. I have faced the fire and fury of battle without blanching ; I shall not fear human threats while I feel in my heart that lam right. Think you of that as yoa go to your rest. Good night. " What ! Does he brave mo ?" muttered the enraged parent, as the door closed behind his departing son. " Will he stand out 1 If he does-if he persists— l ll crush him. I'll turn him out upon the world as penniless as when he came into it ; and the Lord knows we were both of us poor enough For three days not a word passed between father and son. On the morning of the fourth day, at the breakfast table, Donald said to the young man— and he spoke as though there had never been an ill-feeling between them : "Rupert, I wish you would try my chestnuts some time to-day. John shall hitch them to the ohaeton ; and give the girls a breath of fresh air. Wouldn't you like to go, Doris?" .. "I should, .very much, fcir. 11 You ought to ride more ; and on wheels at that. Ido not believe the motion of the saddle is good for you. I noticed you carrying your hand to your side after you came in yesterday." , . •• I think you are right. I feel a pain in my left side whenever I ride far on horseback." „„ , "Then stick to the carriage. There's the light Goddard, the York waggon, and the phseton. They are yours when you will. I scarcely ever use them." Before they left the table, it had been arranged that the ride should come off as had been proposed. The weather was de lightful— warm, but a good breeze from the mountains tempered the atmosphere to comfort. " Susan and Leila shall go with us," said Rupert, as they were in the act of rising. Doris had started to object, on the ground that the company of the two girls might not be entirely agreeable. " If you wouldn't enjoy their companionship—" "0, /should like it." "Then they shall go." "Good !" exclaimed the old man, as though the words would not stay back. " Let the poor girls enjoy themselves." And when the girls had been told that they were to go, they were very glad t •• Doris," said Rupert, after the order had been given to the groom to harness the chestnuts, and hitch them to the phc&ton, '« will you trust me with the key to your larger trunk for a few moments, and allow me to take a peep inside?"

"Certainly," «he answered, smilingly* " I know of nothing there whioh you may not safely see." And she took the key from her packet and gave it into his hand. The trunk waa of firmly finished sole leather, built upon a skeleton frame of spring steel, with an English look, strong and not easily picked. Rupert unlooked and opened it, and from bottom to top he made arrangements of certain artioles after a fanoy of his own. This done, he reclosed and relocked it, and put the key into his pocket. 11 You will trust it in my keeping for a little time," he said, as he arose to his feet. 11 1 think I know what this ride means. You have the crucifix on your person ?" " Yes. It has not left me since I promised to keep it safely." ••That is right. If lam not mistaken, we shall know today whether the precaution is needful." The phreton was brought to the door, and the pleasure party drove off. Donald Owen, standing on the piazza, watched them until they had disappeared from view, after which he retired to his own Bleeping apartment, where, in an old oaken case of drawers, he found a curious collection or strange-looking implements. There were keys of all kinds and descriptions -long and short, large and small— some of them stocky and strong, while others were the merest skeletons. He selectod a few of these latter, and three or four pieces of steel wire, and a pair of nippers, and a Bharp file. These ho put into his pocket, and then turned to the next item of pro!P! P He then removed his ordinary boots, and ' put his feet into a pair of soft felting siip- ! pers, after which he noiselessly made his way to the chamber occupied by Dona. His first trial of a skill now long unused 1 was upon Doris's larger trunk. He looked to the curtains of the windows, and having ; seen them properly down, he kneeled to his 1 Ah !he had not forgotten. Not a kfty i would fit the lock, but with one of the simplest of skeletons, and a tiny bit of wire, he threw back the bolt, and the lid of the trunk was raised. Tho contents were not arranged with any particular care ; yet he noted the general situation, fixing it in ms mind before he moved an article. As soon as he had the arrangement in his mind, he began to overhaul ; he went from the top to the bottom. He not only lifted every article, but he saw the inside of everything which could possibly contain within its compass the thing he sought. It was not in the trunk. With the utmost care and precision he replaced the articles in exact order as he had removed them ; then he relocked the trnk, and turned to the next piece of baggage which he proposed to overhaul. He spent almost two hours in the chamber, as busy as busy could be, and without other results than that o disappointment. " Certainly, she cannot have it," he said, as he stood looking into vacancy. " Wenzell must be mistaken. If the thing is as large as he says, it must be far too heavy for her to wear it ) bo, of course, it is not hi her possession ; for I can swear that it is not iv this chamber; and she has no luggage anywhere else." With this the arch plotter left the chamber, and made hia way back to his own apartment, where he put away his quaint tools, and resumed his boots, after which he made his away to his office, where he found his secretary waiting for him. t m An hour or two later the excursionists i returned. Rupert gave the team into the ! charge of the groom, and waited upon Dons ! to her apartment, where he sat down by a window and waited until Susan and Leila had withdrawn. •' Now, my sweet cousin," he said, alter the door had closed behind the retiring maids, " I propose, before giving you back your key, to take one more look into your 1 trunk. If we fined the contents intact— as f I left them— l shall be greatly disappointed. Truly, I am sorry to say this of a father ; but I cannot help it." With that he knelt before the trunk, and inserted the key into the lock. "Ah P at first the key would not turn. The bolt was not completely shot. He gave it a turn to the left and snapped the bolt into place, after which a turn to the right unlocked it. IHe spent perhaps ten minutes in looking over the various articles which he had systematically arranged, finding, in every 1 case, his system turned topsy-turvy. m i He arose, and gave the key back to Doris. His face had turned a shade paler, and his hands trembled. » Alas i it is as I thought. lam sorry. But no harm has been done, for wbioh I am very thankful. Dear cousin, you cannot be too careful of that crucifix. Its mystery shall be ours one of these d*ys, I promise you that." Before Doris could reply the door was un ceremoniously opened, and Leila entered with a telegram for Rupert. 11 Is there an answer wanted ?" "No, sir." He opened it, and caught bia breath ; and before he could hide it, Doris's quick eager eyes had captured ifc. This is what they read ; •'In Camp, Rox well's Gap, 2Dih. "Capt. Rupert Owkn: Colonel Forsyth Araeden severely wounded, and missing. We are searching;. If found, you ehall know. Renwick. Doris uttered a low, agonised wail, and sank into a seat. uo\ my darling 1 is this the end ? No ! no ! O ! he cannot bo dead." " Doris," said Rupert, laying a hand tenderly upon her shoulder, " let us not give up. My word for it, he is a prisoner." " A prisoner of war ? Will they be kind to him ?" "They are kind. They are a generous people." A brief pause, and then, with Budden animation ; " Doris, as I live, it may be better so." "0 ! if I could go to him !" " Hush ! A better thing may happen. He may be parolled, and oome to you," "Rupert 1" "I am serious. I mean what I say. I feel it in my heart that I shall not prove a false prophet."

CHAPTER XVI. IN HOSPITAL— AND WHAT OUR HERO FOUND THERB. Without especial effort on his part— in fact, without thought to that end— our hero's military qualifications had very soon become manifest, and Renwiok had been ! quick to see and appreciate. When the brigade was being organised George was called upon to form and drill the men in battalion, and in regiment ; and when Tom Errfngton had been promoted, he had been made first a lieutenant, and then captain of the first company. It was on the occasion of the filling of his first commission that Renwick had suggested to him that he should drop the old name, and make use of ! the baptismal portion which had thus far been left entirely out of eight. And the change of name had excited comment. [ The f?wt battle in -which the command I had been engaged had been short and sharp. They had unexpectedly fallen in with a wing of a considerable army of the enemy, and were surrounded before they knew it. Their movement n«4 been reported by false

friends, and their coming waited for. The first onset occurred in front where rode I y Ren wick and hie staff, two full regiments 1 « breaking cover directly before them, and . ji instantly deploying and closing in on the « v\ flanks. , , 001. Erringfeon chanced at the time tope r u away on detaohed service, and Major jii Oakland was on the sick list. Our hero < fc< rode at the head of his regiment, not far < j behind his commander. Ho saw the e*emy burst from the adjacent woods ; and he saw « that Renwick was in mortal peril. B© to turned in his saddle, and waving hift sword above his head, he called upon his men to ,y follow him. Only six companies— about q four hundred and fifty men— were mounted j, y but they thought not of flinching. Catch- s ing the inspiration of their youthful leader, whom they had come to love and esteem, »C they sent forth a yell of defiance, and . a plunged after him. ' i George's dash was like a thunderbolt. Thought of possible danger never occurred i !to him. He and his followers, as they • 3 drew around their chief, swept everything j 3 1 before them ; and, almost before the dumb- , founded enemy could see how the thing had •■ i been done, the environed force had broken through and escaped. They had taken a ! ] path in which there could be no safe pursuit. ' This passage had placed the young Englishman upon the topmost round of popularity with the command. Gen. Ren- 1 j wick publicly thanked him, not only for • having saved hia life, but for having also . saved the command ; for only his quick 1 1 thought and lightning-like dash had done j " it. It was clear to all that a very few j seconds more would have been too late. j ; A week later another sharp engagement ■ took place, in which George (so we will call '. hiui when we can) bore a conspiouous part, leading a portion of the brigade upon a sortie, driving the enemy, capturing two guns, and taking a number of prisoners. It had been during this battle that George's namesake— George Bertram — had been mor- > tally woundod. One night, near the end of summer, our hero and Gen. Renwick eat alone in tent together. They were in a deep vale, in a dense forest, resting from a week of rapid marching and continual lighting. George ■ had just become Renwick's chief of staff, with rank of lieutenant-colonel. They had • just come in from Grand Rounds— a dark drizzly night— and a bottle and glasses were between their elbows. "Colonel, why so thoughtful ? Are you thinking bow you can add to your already brilliant record ? Upon my word, you aro to be envied. Some might say fortune had favoured you ; but I know better. You have richly earned your renown. Tell me, do you never feel fear ?" "Really, General, I can't tell you ; but, if I do, I certainly don't stop to think o£ it." A brief pauso, and a sip from his glass, and he went on : " Renwick, I will tell you what I wouldn't tell to another living soul outside of my home. lam beginning to feel discontented — disheartened. My heart aches when I think of the work on our hands. Do you know, I have always thought of this country as blessed abovo all other nations of the earth in being Freb and Independent— bound to no stated ruler — the power of government in tho hands of the people— every man a monarch in his own birthright. And now, to see that country literally tearing 1 itself into pieces— cutting its own throat — • is a shock to me. I cannot rid myself of the feeling that this war is more than foolish ; it is suicidal. What can you expect in the ■ result ? Do you uot see that the South has 1 aroused a spirit and a power in the freo t North that cannot be overcome? It is my ' firm opinion— and I think I know whereof I - speak — I do really believe that if half Europe could be induced to join in our aid, ' the North would conquer in the end. ; Don't breathe this outside, I speak to you as to a brother." Renwick's face wore a look of sadnegs as 1 he replied, with a dubious shake of the head : I "My dear boy, I daren't tell you all I feel ; but I will tell you this : I thought succes1 «ion a mistake in the beginning, and I think J so a thousandfold more strongly now j but > it is too late to look back ; we must fight it • out. Really, we seem to be getting the best 1 of it now." "Ah!" responded the younger man, \ dubiously, " and there's the mischief. The I North ia like a great hulky fellow I onoe saw r set upon by a fiery little pepper-box of a pugilist, who was going to whip him out . of hand. The giant took the buffets and 3 ouffs and slaps until tho hot-headed madman had knocked himself out of breath, and • then he picked the pigmy up and carried 1 him and threw him into a horse-pond. » Mind you, I don't mean to apply that r literally, but so far as the strength and > endurance of the parties are concerned, I think it is just. Look at the one item of money." I "Hush! I see. You are right. But — don't let us think of it. Here's to success, anyhow !" And tho young colonel took a sip from his glass in response to his comI panion's call. ' A silence ensued, which was broken by r Renwick, as before. " Colonel, what now ? How solemn you look t" , " General," said George, looking up with j a faint smile, " I muit look as I feel. You will bear witness that I am not a croaker, nor prore to fancy evil. Yet, in spite of I me, a sense of gloomy foreboding has settled down upon me. I have never yet ' entored an engagement with any sense but that of eagerness for the fray ; but now I shrink from it. Mind you— it is not fear. j I do not shrink from duty, but I wish it did not lead me into the next battle, for I know that I shall be hit." " Pshaw ! that is all fancy, dear fellow." "I know it, General ; but it is a fancy that has possessed my every thought and feeling, and I cannot shake it off. I ask you to promise me this: Should accident befall me— no matter what— you will, as soon as possible, find the nearest telegraph, and flash a message to my wife— Doris You will promise ? 11 With all my heart. I don't believe in your fancy, dear boy ! but I'll send the telegram, be sure. But I think I'll send it to her cousin, Rupert— to Captain Owen. We know he is her devoted friend ; and I tell you, of my own knowledge, you may trust your very life in his good faith and honour." " Right you are, General. Let it be to Ruperfc. And now to rest. Do you know which way you will next move V ff No. lam ordered to wait here until I receive orders from Lee, I expect them tomorrow. Good-night, and may your dreams be pleasant." They were burdened with no iron bedframes. They spread their blankets on the soft, mossy sward, and soon slept Boundly. On the following morning, just at break of day, a horse came dashing into camp, having upon his back a boy, black as charcoal, from twelve to fourteen years of age. He saw General Renwiok just emerging from his tent, drew up at his side, and slipped to the ground. "You amde gln'ril, sar?" " What makes you think so ?" "Kase yer woke up so easy j an' you's de man dat 1 wer' sent ter find— Gin'rii Renwick. Dar afnfc nobody else looks like yer, I know— yah Igo here's a 'spatoh for yer, mars'r."

from an, old rent in the ilftßveinhis shirt 1 14 putted forth a, little roll of paper, looking i cor all the world like a section of the stem . at a clay tobacco pipe. Renwick took it, « spened £6, and read : **Gm. Renwiok: You will join Floyd rta quickly as possible. Roseoran* is pushj ing him. You may tmst the bearer of this i'bo guide you, Give all the help you , »n. R/ B. Lee." Two hours later the- command was in motion, with nothing of personal baggage to hamper it. "Well, Colonel,''' said Ren wick to his young chief of staff, as they rode side by «d« at the head of the column, •* I think , you've got over your blue spell of last , night." I "Because I smile aB usual, eh ? No, no, i General, the feeling is as deep and strong *« ever. I don't carry my inmost thoughts 1 and. feeling on the surface." " Well, you must do your thinking now while you have opportunity, for be sure • you won't find time for it after we strike i Roseerans." 11 I'll do my devoir, General. For the i raat judge me as you think I deserve." "O, pshaw ! Enough of this sad music. ! Let's have a song to enliven the march. Where's Beppo ?" " Heah, ear." " Get your minstrels, Bep, and give us i some music. We want the real old Plantat ion Melodies. Come—quick's the word !" And shortly thereafter a dozen black mini Btrelß were sending forth a melody of song ) that inspirited the whole column. i Two hours after daylight on the morning J of the next day Renwick reported to Gen. l?loyd ; and he was just in time. Scouts bad come in that morning reporting the Federal army not twenty miles away, and advancing rapidly. Arrangements had already been made for the coming conflict, »nd Renwick's command was assigned its place on the extreme right, the general i commanding having great confidence in his qualities of dash and bull dog pertinacity, j At eleven o'clock word came that the ©nemy were only ten miles away. Orders w«re issued for the men to get their dinners at once and to be under arms at the hour of twelve noon. At two o'clock in the afternoon the battle opened on the Confederate right. The enemy had planted a battery that commanded a« enfilading position— a battery of six twelve-pound Napoleons — and it opened at short range, threatening to sweep Renwick'fi brigade out of existence. '♦Colonel Amsden, you must capture that battery. Take two regiments, and wipe it out." "Aye, aye, sir." And in less than five minutes from that time our hero was dashing away at the head of hiß column, up the rise at the summit of which the obnoxious battery had been stationed. With a yell that split the welkin the infuriate Confederates—made so by the fearful havoc in their serried ranks—plunged on— struck the battery like an avalanche —divided— closed in— and the position was gained. But not to be loner held. Scarcely had they trailed the guns about to bear upon their late owners, when like a thunderbolt came a counteracting force, and the victors of the moment wavered and fell back. "No ! no ! no !" shouted our hero, leaping upon one of the guns and waving his sword above his head. " Don't give them ud ! Stand,— Remember, Benwitk and victory !" They were his laafc words. He saw his men beaten back, himself surrounded by strange uniforms, and in a moment more he felt a burning sensation in his side. His sight failed him, his head swam— a sense of sinking — and that was the last. The thunder and crash of battle for him was hushed, and upon his seneos had come the night of oblivion. When he next opened his eyes he found himself in a place new and strange. It; appeared, as he gazed up at fche black rafters far above him, like an old barn. He saw scaffolds on both hands, and he thought he saw cots up there, with men on them. He was on the ground floor, and there were men lying all about him — some on raised i cots, as was he, and others on beds of straw : upon the floor. Byand-by he discovered that a man, with his left arm in a sling, and a bandage about his head, sat by his side, as though watching him. George felt no sharp pains. There was a , soreness about the left shoulder and lower i down towards the hip on the same side ; also a sense of weakness throughout the whole system, All this he realised as he gazed upon the man at his side— a man certainly nearer fifty than forty, tall and broad-shouldered, and strongly framed. A dense mass of yellowish, frowsly hair covered his well shaped head, and his full beard was of the same colour. His eyes were of a greyish blue, kindly and truthful. In short, the whole face, though not what could by any possibility be called handsome, was a face to be trusted. 41 Friend, will you tell me where I am ?" " Ah ! Good !" The face of the watcher brightened with a gladness not to be mistaken. " How do you feel, mate ?" "Really, I don't know. I— l-am very weak, and I ache." " Aye, I should think you would -a bullet in your shoulder, and another in your side, and your clothing literally shot to pieces, But the lead's been taken out, sir. There aint a particle of it left in you now. Easy ! Don't talk too much. Save a fever if you can. You are a prisoner in the hands of the Unionists, as I am myself." At that moment a surgeon came to the cot, and having examined the pationt, gave directions to his steward for medicine and treatment, and peremptorily forbade further conversation. Forty-eight hours later George was able to rise to a Sitting position. When the hospital steward had bolstered him uj), and given into his hands a bowl with nourishing broth, and he had began to eat it with keen appetite, his watcher of the yellow hair came and sat down by his side again. A few questions were asked and answered while he ate, from which he learned that he had been the only prisoner captured at the battery. The others of bis command had either been shot down or had escaped, and the Confederate army had successfully retreated. " 1," said our hero's informant, "belonged to Colonel Jenkins's cavalry— a body of free-lances of which you have doubtless heard. I was knocked from my saddle by a piece of shell— two pieces, 1 think — one hitting my head and the other this arm. I was stunned, but not badly hurt" Nothing more was said until George's bowl — empty— bad been taken away. Then, however, the face of the elder man assumed an earnest eager look, and he reached forward and laid a finger upon the seal that George wore on his watch chain. It was a large oarnelian, of blood-red colour, with the letters R. 0. engraved in monogram on its face, set in a frame of gold. "Will you tell me, sir, where you got that seal ?" Be sure you fell into good hands, or you would not have had it now. How came you by it ?" II Why do you ask ? Did you ever see it before ?" 11 1 think so. I wish you would answer my question. It is not an idle ouriosity that prompts me, I assure you." George was startled. Another look into the brave, honest face, and ho feared not to i trust him,

11 Thank Heaven ! it is saved I" he ejaculated, turning the seal between his thumb and finger. "It was once the property of my wife's father." " And his name—" "Ralph Owen." " Is Doris your wife V* "Yes." "You were married—where?" " In Calcutta." *' Where is Mary Owen ?" " You mean Doris's toother ?" "Yea." " She is dead. She died a year ago last June." " Was she— poor ?" Did Donald Owen ever send her— money ?" George dropped the seal and looked his interlocutor in the face. '♦ Who— who— are you ?" " I am Jack Clearetar." " Jack Clearstar ! O ! thanks f Thanks be to God for that I You are Jack. You would not deceive me !" " I am the Jack Clearstar who was Ralph Owen's trusted esquire in all his wanderingß, from the day of his leaving hie American home to the day of his death. I was the last man whom he trusted in life. Tell me : Do you know of Sydney Ashton ?" " I did know of him, He, also, is dead. But for him Mary Owen and her daughter would have fared but ill." u Do you know," cried Jack, excitedly, " if Ashton gave to Mrs Owen a golden crucifix which was her husband's ?" " He did : and Doris has it now." " Where is she ?" "I left her at Owensville, with Donaldr She is there now." "Tell me —in Heaven's name !—how you come to be here. I don't understand it." " Ah 1 thereby hangs a tale." "What is the story?" " If I will tell you my story, will you tell me yours?" "Of course I will. To think that we should have met in this way ! You and I wore brought in here together, I came to my senses first, and proved not to be so badly hurt. I lay by your side. When I j began to look around, I saw the surgeon j and his steward at your cot. They were j looking at your watch sea], and wondered ; who and what you were. Somebody had told the surgeon that you were a very demon on horseback in action ; but he didn't think you looked like it. When they had gone, I reached over and looked at the seal. Heavens ! how it startled me ! I knew it the moment I saw it. I had seen my master ueo it in sealing letters a bun- ! dred times. That's the way I found you. ! Now, your story. I am— l was going to cay —dying tQ hear it." George took a swallow from a cup of cooling drink that stood at his side, and then, after a little thought, began his story. He began at the beginning ; told of his first acquaintance with Mrs Owen and Doris ; hia father's friendship for them ; the marriage of Mary Owen with Major Ashton, afterwards Colonel ; of Ashton's death ; of the widow's final sickness, aud her charge to himself that he should make Doris his wife, and go with her to America, there to endeavour to regain the rights which she was sure had been wrested from her. She had planned that the marriage should take place at her bedside ; but she had passed away too soon. Then, after a brief season of reflection, he told of the two men who had so strangely shadowed the widow and her child. It had been one man at first, but a second had appeared after a time. He told how they had frightened Doris at various times, and or the final abduction, Then he told of his marriage and his voyage, And of the appearance of Wenzell and Herter on the way; of his arrival in New York ; and of his passage to Owensville ; and, in conclusion, he told of his own impressment, closing with the story of the friendship of Renwick and his companion officers, and how they had served him. " Now, Jack," when he had concluded, " you "will remember — " He was stopped there by the approach of the surgeon, and, with him, a general officer — a man slightly past the middle age, wearing a faded blouse, with a single star on his shoulder. " This is the man, General," the surgeon eaid, stopping beside our hero's couch. Then, to the invalid: "This is General Rosecrans." A camp-stool was placed by George's side, upon which the general seated himself. " Young man, I have been told that you are an Englishman," "lam, sir." " Also, that you were not in arms of your own free-will." " Thereby hangs a tale, General, which I will tell i? you will listen." " I came for that purpose. Go on." The wounded soldier took a slight draught from his cup, and then, after a little thought, began his ftory. And before the session was closed, the general had not only heard the story of the youth, but Jack Clear star's as well, {To be Continued.)